Beautifully Unnatural: A Young Adult Paranormal Boxed Set (2 page)

I may have a 4.0, but if they gave grades in talking to guys I’d get an F for sure. Why can’t I flirt like a normal sixteen-year-old?

What is it about being around a hot guy that brings out my sarcastic side?

Good news: He didn’t tell me off. Instead, his mouth crept into that sexy half-smile thing he does and he said, “I heard you got an A on McKay’s pop-quiz. If I need a tutor, guess I know who to come to.”

For future note, some quality responses would’ve been: “I’m the world’s best tutor,” “I’m free after school today,” or “Why don’t I tutor you, then we can go see a movie after?”

What I actually said was: “Just cuz I get math, doesn’t mean I can teach it.”

Lame! Lame! Lame! For some reason, he didn’t seem annoyed by my response. He just laughed and said, “Catch you later.”

OMG, I think he might like me. When I see him today at school, I swear I’m going to say something right for a change. Hey, weirder things could happen. Like maybe Joel will turn out to be a teen version of Edmond Danté
s
. BTW, why don’t heroes like him exist in real life? Every time I read The Count of Monte Cristo, I get chills. I mean, he was banished to a cell for years, lived in isolation for a crime he didn’t commit, and what does he do when he gets out? He goes to find his girl. Now, that’s true love if you ask me—plus he was pretty hot in the movie.

Uh-oh, doorbell just rang. Who in the world’s coming to our apartment this early in the morning? Gotta run. Will write more soon.

Love,

Kylie

I tossed my journal on my dresser and hurried down the hall as the doorbell rang again. “Dad, can you get that?”

No answer, so I peeked into his room. Not there. I wandered down the hall and hung a left into the kitchen where I found a sticky note on our fridge right next to a picture of Dad and me from my eighth grade graduation:

Morning Kiddo,

Got paged by a patient and had to leave early.

Love,

Dad

The doorbell rang a third time.

“Coming, coming,” I said, heading to the front door. I peered through the peephole and saw some guy’s profile. His dark hair was slicked back, he wore a corduroy blazer over jeans, and held a beat up briefcase in his left hand. Looked like a cheesy salesman. Figures Dad would leave early for the office today of all days.

I opened our apartment door, crossing my fingers that Sales Dude would go away quickly because I certainly wasn’t buying. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, there. I’m Mark Hernandez,” he said. His dark eyes studied me. “Are you, by any chance, Kylie Walker?”

Walker? I blinked. As in, my mom’s maiden name? Um, she died when I was four, Sales Dude. Way to get your facts straight. “Yes, I’m Kylie.”

Kylie Bates, but no point in correcting him. It’s not like I was going to spend a nickel on whatever he’s pushing.

His eyes lit up and he exhaled through closed lips. “That’s great. Really great. Is your Mom, Sandy, home?”

“No.” Not since she died of a brain aneurysm twelve years ago. Whatever salary he was getting, they were paying him too much.

His thick brows came together. “Can you tell me what time you expect her?”

“She didn’t say.” True enough. Besides, I’m not that confrontational. My dad can be the one to shoot him down if he comes around again.

“May I come inside and wait?” he said.

Okay, that was too pushy. “Uh, I kinda have to get to school.”

“I see. All right.” He reached into the breast pocket of his untucked button-down shirt and pulled out a business card. “Again, my name is Mark Hernandez and it’s absolutely urgent that I speak with Sandy. Will you have her call me as soon as she gets in?”

“Sure.” I shoved the card into my jeans pocket to make it look like I’d pass on the message.

“Even if it’s late.” He stared me down. “It’s really important.”

“Okay.” Can you say desperate?

He continued to stand on our doormat for a minute then shifted his feet. “All right then. I guess that’s all for now. Thank you very much for your time.”

He held his arm out to shake my hand.

Wow. Worried about impressing the kid? This guy was totally jonesing for a sale. I reached out and placed my hand in his . . . and it suddenly felt like I’d shoved my hand inside an electrical socket.

Heavy vibrations rattled up my arm, into my neck, and then slammed into my head. Images flashed in my mind as if a slideshow had started playing. The sales guy in an office. A brunette. Her eyes so red and swollen they’d lost their shape. White lights burst between the rapid frames. A big red desk. His pen poised above a yellow pad. Tears rolling down her face. “
You have to find her fast
,” a female voice echoed in my head like wicked laughter.

“Aagh!” I jerked my hand away, tripped over the porch mat, and fell back on my butt. The screen in my head went black and the voice faded.

“Are you okay?” Sales Dude knelt in front of me, his black, caterpillar brows crinkling.

I panted hard and tried to get a grip. What. Just. Happened?

“Miss Walker?” He waved a hand in front of my face. “Say something. Are you all right?”

I shook my head. Must’ve just zoned out for a moment, that’s all. What else could it be?

“Kylie.” He wiggled his fingers back and forth past my eyes. “I said, are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to tell him to chill, but then—boom!—the images burst into my head again as if by photographic memory. “
You have to find her fast
,” the woman’s voice shrilled. What was this? A depressing movie-of-the-week scene starring Mark Hernandez and some weepy heroine? “S-stop!”

“What’s going on?” He sounded frustrated.

I couldn’t repeat what I’d just seen. That I’d pictured him taking notes while some brunette sobbed her head off because, somehow, I knew the scene was real, that it had actually happened—that it’d somehow gotten from his brain to mine, which was obviously impossible. No, definitely wasn’t going to share that info. He’d think I was crazy. Oh, no.
Was
I crazy? Had some whacko poisoned my box of bran flakes cereal? “It’s n-nothing. I’m fine.”

He stared at me. “Are you sure?”

Most definitely not, but I had to get away from him before I heard that lady’s plea again. It sounded way too tormented. “Yeah, great. I have your card, so gotta go now. Bye.”

I threw the door closed, ran down the hall to my room, and dove face down on my bed. How could this be real? Hallucinating. I had to be hallucinating.

I mean, I’d seen a scene from the salesman’s life. Twice. But, how? We’d shaken hands, I’d felt buzzing course up my arm and then—bam!—images played in my head. Had my brain somehow peeked into his? Not possible, but what other explanation could there be?

I shuddered.

As with anytime I freaked out, I wanted to run to my dad. He gives pretty cool advice, probably because he’s a psychologist and all. He’d totally reassure me I wasn’t losing my mind and come up with a good explanation for what had happened.

But, he was gone. Left early for a patient. Well, what about his daughter? Left her high and dry, didn’t he?

I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t leave for school now, I’d be late. I’m never late. It gives teachers a bad impression and they can switch an A to an A- with the flick of a pen. There wasn’t time to freak. Besides, who cares that I’d seen a stranger’s thoughts? Had to have been a fluke. One of those weird, unexplainable psychic things you hear about on TV that only happen once and then that’s the end of it.

Pushing it out of my mind, I snagged my backpack from my bedroom, and bolted out the front door. To help forget this random encounter, I’d focus on my goal for today: Talk to Joel in a way that lets him know I’m interested. No sarcasm. Just proper flirting. Sounded simple enough.

If it were anyone but me, that is.

*****

My Wolf's Bane

by

Veronica Blade

Chapter One

Scooping up my backpack, I abandoned my geriatric car and forged through the double doors of the school. The patter of my sandals echoed through the hallway as I smiled at a group of classmates passing by.

My nose detected the bathroom before my eyes did, filling with the smell of disinfectant and… paint? Whatever. I'd take the toxic fumes over my former home school days, where my parents had kept me trapped without a social life.

Inside the empty restroom, I rummaged through my backpack for my makeup bag. I set it on the edge of the sink, then surveyed the damage. At least I'd had time to do my hair before I'd stormed out of the house. Long, dark brown hair cascaded over my shoulders in thick waves. My face was a different story though. Evidence of sleep deprivation circled my eyes and my normally olive skin was pale.

As I stared at my reflection, I wondered how to handle my very dead car without involving my mom or dad. After the bomb they'd dropped last night - that we'd be moving again in just a few weeks - I didn't want to speak to either of them. I mean, what kind of parents uproot their kid two to three times a year? There had to be a way to convince them to stay a few weeks more, until I turned eighteen. Then I could make my own choices.

The restroom door swung open behind me, letting in the dull roar of voices and banging lockers, and a younger girl disappeared into a stall. Was it time for my first class already? I checked the time on my cell and realized I'd been holding the mascara brush for several minutes, yet my lashes were still naked. Crap.

I tossed the makeup bag into my backpack, slung it over my shoulder and whipped open the door. Barreling out of the bathroom, I slammed into what felt like a walking boulder. I ricocheted off the human rock and my backpack hit the wall behind me, throwing me off balance and pitching me forward into the hard, linoleum tile.

My palms cushioned my fall, but I winced as pain spiked up my wrists. On all fours, I lifted my chin and peeked through my curtain of dark hair.

He wore a black tee that molded to his wide, muscular shoulders and jeans that fit over powerful legs. Wow. I'd thought my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was cute, but this guy…

“You okay?” the hottie asked in a sexy, gravelly voice, stretching a hand toward me. His hand wrapped around mine and effortlessly pulled me up, as if I weighed no more than my calculus book. Maybe it was the throbbing in my limbs or the warmth of his hands on my elbows. Or maybe it was his earthy scent invading my senses, but a wave of dizziness hit me and I tipped forward.

His hands shot to my hips to steady me. “Easy there.”

I stared into his deep, green eyes as my palms rested on his hard biceps for support. Lord, he smelled good, like the forest after rain.

My breath hitched.

The scuffling of feet and rustling clothes seemed quieter than it should've been. I glanced over my shoulder to see what was up. Nearly everyone in the hallway had their eyes fixed on me. No doubt, most of them had witnessed me doing the Humpty-Dumpty and, by the end of the day, the incident would be all over school. Probably even caught on video and uploaded to YouTube, me with no makeup and totally un-cute. Ugh.

Hot Guy may have been standing right in front of the bathroom in my way, but I shouldn't have been speeding. I opened my mouth to apologize when I recognized Daniel's voice.

“That's my girl you're touching, freak.” Daniel sneered, flicked his long, dirty-blond hair over his shoulder and clamped onto my wrist. “Hands off.”

Hot Guy nudged me aside and stepped forward until he almost butted chests with Daniel. “You need to learn some manners.”

“Oh, yeah? You gonna try to teach me, girly boy?”

Though I knew Daniel was acting like an idiot, the school gossip mill didn't need any more material on me today. I was more than finished with Daniel, but I didn't necessarily want him to get a public smack-down - even though he probably deserved it. Wedging myself between them, I twisted to meet Daniel's gaze. “Let's just go.”

“Good idea.” Daniel gave Hot Guy another scalding look before grabbing my hand and jerking me away. I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn't have to referee a brawl.

“Ass hat,” Hot Guy muttered.

Daniel kept walking, practically dragging me along. He couldn't have heard the insult or he would've stopped and turned on Hot Guy. But I had heard it so clearly. Weird.

“Hang on and I'll walk you to class.” Daniel paused at his locker and spun the combination lock.

“Sure,” I said absently. I glanced over my shoulder to Hot Guy, who was leaning against a locker fiddling with his cell phone. The least I could do was give him an apologetic smile and mime, “Sorry.”

I didn't get a chance. His gaze met mine, his mouth twisting as he raised one brow. Okay, so this wasn't going to be an easy fix. Hot Guy seemed too old to be in high school anyway. Probably a college student dropping off his younger sibling, which meant I'd never see him again.

I wanted to keep staring at his perfectly sculpted nose, angular cheekbones and deep brown hair that fell haphazardly over his forehead, but he spun and strolled off in the opposite direction. A tug of my hand drew my focus back to my future ex-boyfriend.

“Hold up,” I said. The warning bell sounded, but I barely heard it as I yanked my hand from his. “Why'd you have to act like such a psycho?”

Daniel shrugged, as though the answer was obvious. “He was touching you.”

I laughed. “Seriously?”

“You're mine, Autumn. No other guy can ever touch you again.” He said it like he couldn't believe I'd even question him.

“I'm no one's property,” I hissed. “Besides, I tripped and he was just helping me up.”